Can't You See It's Over
by orangesofsymmetry
Summary: Phan. The UK is overrun with infected. Dan and Phil. Zombies. Great Britain is quarantined.
1. Declare This An Emergency

**_Series_: Can't You See It's Over**

**_Title_****: Declare This An Emergency**

**_Summary_****: Dan and Phil. Zombies. Great Britain is quarantined.**

**_Pairing_****: Danisnotonfire/AmazingPhil - Phan.**

**_Disclaimer_****: I don't own Dan or Phil but I own the story line and all OCs. The title of the series is taken from Muse's ****_Shrinking Universe_**** and the chapter's title from ****_Apocalypse Please_****.**

**_WARNINGS_****: graphic violence, death, gore, blood and guts, sexual references in later chapters, might even get to smut, language**

**_Rating_: this part M for gore**

**_AN_****: this is going to be a big one. I hope so anyway. I'll try ok. Idk I like zombie films and stuff so I thought why not and mashed them up woo.**

* * *

Phil wakes up at five.

There's something up and he knows it yet in his cocoon of blankets he can try and pretend that there is nothing wrong.

He hears Dan wake up in the room next to him.

It's five thirty.

Something is very wrong indeed.

The street outside seems oddly quiet. There is no traffic moving, no engines roaring, no blazing horns or screams of sirens. Silence. He can't hear the footsteps of pedestrians, or their quick phone conversations, just an eerie, disturbing silence.

That scares him.

In a central Manchester apartment, he should be able to hear something.

A bloodcurdling scream echoes from the street outside.

He hears Dan stiffen in bed and they both sit up with baited breath because that scream was something that no human being should have to produce and they both know it. They hear something else.

A growl.

A low, twisted human growl that starts as a muffled gurgle but becomes a sinister and threatening tune. There's something out there.

Phil's door opens slowly and he watches as Dan approaches him. He can see the terror in the younger boy's eyes and he knows that the same emotion is reflected in his own. In Dan's hands is a laptop. It's open and the light is casting an alien light onto his features, skin glowing in the artificial light. He can see Dan's shaking and he knows that he is too.

"Phil." Dan says quietly and Phil nods slowly, eye contact not breaking. "Look." He says simply as he turns the laptop around. Phil's eyes are drawn to the screen instantly. It's set to the BBC news channel but there's no reporter.

There's just image after image after image of burning cities and hoards. Hoards and hoards and hoards. There's blood covering the streets and the hoards are running and clawing and tearing.

Phil knows what they are. He's seen enough movies to know what they are and he feels the deepest feeling of dread he has ever felt.

He doesn't care what he should call them, he just knows they're trouble. They're mutants, infected, undead, _zombies_.

There's a headline flashing across the bottom of the page, a headline that strikes Phil deep.

_**"Britain Quarantined"**_

Phil's eyes meet Dan's again. The laptop is placed on the floor noiselessly and Dan's smooth steps get closer and closer to him. Phil hasn't moved. He can't, he can't.

His eyes flicker back to the screen. It's like a film but this isn't a film this is real life and he needs to pull himself together. He can't.

Dan places a trembling hand on his shoulder and he whispers "what do we do?" and he sounds so broken.

Phil doesn't know, but he's sure that they can't stay here.

He doesn't know where it's come from but he can feel the need to protect Dan bubbling up inside of him. He acts purely on instinct, slowly sliding out of bed and putting one finger to his lips. "Stay as quiet as you can. Get dressed and cover as much skin as possible." His breathing is shaky with nerves but he manages to stay composed. "You pack clothes, I'll get food and weapons."

He sees Dan gulp at the mention of the word and he gives him a look that he hopes is reassuring.

He watches as Dan leaves the room again, his laptop left behind and Phil stares at it again just to prove to himself that this is really happening.

The screen stays unchanged.

He changes quickly, a pair of thick jeans and a leather jacket deemed sufficient and he pulls a hat over his head. He leaves his glasses on.

He's about to leave his room but he pauses at the last minute, casting one last glance over his shoulder. He knows that this is going to be the last time he'll ever see the room and it pains him, but there's nothing he can do about it so he simply turns back around and walks down the corridor. His footsteps seem too loud, his breathing seeming to echo in the small space and he's so scared but he tries to pretend that he isn't.

He enters the kitchen, his eyes already scanning for things to use as weapons. His eyes focus on the frying pan on the stove. It's old so the metal is heavy and worn and the handle is long. Perfect. He sees the baseball bat in the corner, conveniently given as a gift by a fan a week earlier.

The fans.

His stomach flips when he thinks of them. How many are already dead? How many more will die? He knows that there is very minimal hope that himself or Dan will survive and the thought of a million fans dying makes his head spin. He pushes the thoughts away.

He grabs his rucksack from the door and starts shoving tins from the cupboards into it. He knows fresh food will be of no use. Fresh food rots. He shoves dried foods into the bag, fruits and packaged carbohydrates because that's what they'd do in Hollywood. He finds the matches, the first aid kit and right at the last minute the bottle of whisky because it'll take the edge off later when they need it and they always drink it in the films. He places the bottled water from the fridge into the bag and tests the weight.

It's too heavy.

The bag is swung onto his back and it digs painfully into his shoulders but there's nothing he can do about that because it's all essential. He sighs as quietly as he can.

He's about to leave when his eyes latch onto something on the fridge. It's a picture of the foursome and he feels a strange contraction in his heart that he recognises as pain. He plucks the picture from the door and folds it into his pocket.

If it's the last thing he does, he vows to find Chris and PJ.

He walks back along to Dan's room. He sees him, sat in the middle of the floor, arms wrapped tightly around his legs and hands clawing at his knees. The first thing that strikes him in the situation is his basic instinct. Run. But when he looks closer he can tell that Dan is still human, he can see the tears rolling down his cheeks and the racking sobs through his body. Human. A sigh of relief.

Phil scoops him up, wrapping him into a quick hug. He pulls back quickly, but pauses, eyes firmly staring into Dan's. He doesn't know why he does it but he does and there is no logical explanation but nothing is logical anymore.

He leans in again and pecks Dan softly on the lips.

He tries to persuade himself it means nothing but he can't when he sees the expression on Dan's face.

He doesn't know who started it but suddenly they're kissing hungrily, hands tugging in each other's hair and tongues clashing. It's a violent meeting of tongues and lips and teeth, and there's no love, but there's something there and maybe, maybe, it could be something close. Dan captures Phil's bottom lip between his teeth and Phil shudders with a moan low in his throat. It doesn't register that they're best friends and best friends don't do this, all they can feel is the tension dissipating.

They pull away from each other. They're both smirking with swollen lips and suddenly there's a little bit more hope.

"Remember when I said I wouldn't do you even if you were the last person alive?" Dan asked. Phil nodded jerkily. "Bullshit."

They giggled together for a minute, regardless of the situation they were currently in.

Dan ruffles his hair and Phil can't help but giggle. He notices how it's straighter than it was last time and he frowns. "Dan? Did you, er, straighten your hair?" Dan looks at Phil, blushes and averts his eyes. That's a yes, then. "Seriously?" Dan nods sheepishly. Phil giggles again and Dan joins in too, shrugging.

Downstairs a bang then a long, drawn out scream.

Dan's head snaps up. "Was that-?"

"Mrs McGregor." Phil whispers softly.

"Shit."

There are more bangs then footsteps. Dan gulps.

"Come on." Phil whispers, handing him the frying pan that he'd dumped on the floor in his haste to comfort Dan.

Dan stares at it in repulse. "A frying pan? A fucking frying pan? The fuck do you take me for, a zombie slaying housewife? Fuck me."

"Oh, you want to go out there unprotected then, huh?" Phil hisses rolling his eyes, but nevertheless hands him the baseball bat, snatching the pan. Dan tries it out in his hand, giving it a few test swings that deem it good enough.

Downstairs they hear the scabbling of hands and a wet tearing sound. Neither discusses what they think it is causing them.

They shut the front door behind them and begin to walk down the corridor. The air is rank; too hot with a putrid stench that was all too similar to rotting flesh. They pull their scarves around their faces, and Phil watches as Dan puts on a pair of 3D glasses.

Phil sniggers, rolling his eyes at him and Dan hisses "what?" but Phil ignores it because they both heard that bang on the stairs.

The double doors swing open.

Sunken, telescopic eyes pierce and glow. One half of the face is completely ripped away, muscle and cartilage exposed and from the corner of it's mouth a frothy red substance dribbles. It's eyes are dull inside sunken sockets, shining in the artificial light but still dead. The skin has turned a sickly yellow, patchy and already moulding already in places. A gargled moan escaped from it's lips and it lurches forwards.

Phil's arm flies out to the side, pushing Dan back and he rushes towards it, frying pan held above his head. Dan watches in awe and respectful fear as the pan strikes it across the head with a resounding crack and it crumples to the floor.

Dan holds the baseball bat in Phil's direction. "Swap back?" Phil sniggers and shakes his head, toe nudging the figure hunched on the floor.

It is only then when they realise.

"Mrs McGregor."

The both say the name at the same time, eyes flickering towards the heap on the ground, then back to each other.

Dan shrugs. Phil shrugs too and says with as much conviction as he can because he knows it's true: "we couldn't have saved her anyway." Dan nods because of course he's right.

"We need to think about this more." Dan says after a moment of deliberation and Phil agrees. "Think, where would they go in the films?" Phil laughs quietly as he realises that they've both been using the same tactics for survival and shrugs.

"First we get out of Manchester."

Dan hums appreciatively at Phil's suggestion and nods.

"We head in the direction of Leeds maybe, then go North to the Dales?"

"Yeah, sounds good. We find a small village and see if we can hide out there? Y'know, like 28 Weeks Later when they're in that house?"

Phil wants to correct Dan and remind him that it doesn't end well for the residents of that house, but he doesn't have the heart to. If he destroys Dan's hope for the future then neither of them will have any. Phil lost hope the second Mrs McGregor came through those doors.

Dan shifts on his feet, uncomfortable in the silence and clears his throat softly.

He doesn't notice the figure on the floor moving, slowly scraping it's way across the floor towards them.

Until Phil slams his foot onto it's head.

He hears Dan's girlish shriek and the sickening crunch of bones, the squelch of the brain beneath his shoes and he feels bile rise in his throat. He glances over at Dan and he notices that he's gone deathly pale, and there's a tinge of green to his cheeks. He looks like he's going to throw up. Phil doesn't blame him at all. There's blood on his boot and on his jeans and he can feel his stomach churning.

He just killed someone. he doesn't care that technically she was already dead. It just shows him what he's capable of and it scares him because he never thought he was that strong. His own power terrifies him. He just crunched a human skull underneath his foot. A real, human skull.

Dan takes him into his arms.

No, not human. Dan is human. Phil is human. Mrs McGregor _was_ human."We have to keep moving." Phil whispers and Dan agrees. "If she got infected, there must be more of them."

The floor rumbles and they're thrown to the ground. They hear windows smashing and car alarms beeping. They can hear the crackle of flames and from a blown out window at the end of the corridor near their flat they can see the orange glow of fire.

Oh yes, there's a lot more of them.


	2. Blood Splatters and Smoke

**_Series_****: Can't You See It's Over**

**_Title_****: Declare This An Emergency**

**_Summary_****: Dan and Phil. Zombies. Great Britain is quarantined.**

**_Pairing_****: Danisnotonfire/AmazingPhil - Phan.**

**_Disclaimer_****: I don't own Dan or Phil but I own the story line and all OCs. The title of the series is taken from Muse's ****_Shrinking Universe._****_  
_**

**_WARNINGS_****: graphic violence, death, gore, blood and guts, sexual references in later chapters, might even get to smut, language**

**_Rating_****: this part M for gore**

_**AN**_**: hey there. This is quite a short chapter idk man what is short what is long but compared to the last chapter yeah it's short. Sorry about the cliffhanger. The next chapter has been started and I've got a lot of ideas on where this is going, so don't worry, this is no where near over.**

**Also, I made a to/too grammar mistake in the last chapter and I can't find it anywhere ugh.**

* * *

Phil's head raises from the floor slowly. His cheek aches from the impact and he's twisted his ankle in the fall but he has no other injuries. He counts himself lucky. He hears Dan moan quietly and watches as he shifts and snaps his head up. Dan's movements are fast and shaky and he's scared. He's on the brink of a panic attack but he's trying to hide it for Phil's sake.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" Dan says and Phil shakes his head.

There's smoke leaking into the window now and they can smell the burning of petrol.

Phil is surprised when Dan stands up first and tugs him up by his hand. Their fingers interlock but they don't let go, even when they lean over to retrieve their makeshift weapons. Phil squeezes Dan's fingers and when Dan returns it he feels a whole lot safer. He almost forgets that he was lying in the remains of his neighbour.

Almost.

At the window for the first time they could see what they knew they would yet it's still so disturbing, so unreal and horrifying that they can hardly process it.

Below them is a burning street. One car is ablaze, the source of the explosion, they note, and littering the street is human remains. There's blood. So, so much blood and there's the sick smell of burning blood and it's sick.

The street is empty otherwise.

They don't know how to feel.

There's the initial surge of relief; the street is clear of infected, they can escape easily. There's a moment of pride, where for one second the pair are invincible, two men looking over an empty wasteland, victorious, still alive against it all. Then there's terror.

The terror is the worst.

It's a completely helpless feeling of pure fear and it's crushing. The street is empty. The same street that is always crowded is completely empty and in tatters. It is rush hour, it should be thriving and pulsing with crowds of pedestrians but all there is is blood and fire.

They turn away from the window.

"Didn't Mrs McGregor get a new car?" Phil says with a glance at their still intertwined fingers. Dan moves his head quickly upwards, his chin jutting upwards in the air. Phil takes it as a sign to elaborate. "She normally parks it out back, right?"

"Yeah." Dan says and there's lightbulbs going off in his head as he realises what Phil is trying to get at. "So we take her keys from her apartment and... Go?"

Phil nods and tries to subdue the nauseous feeling that is currently residing in his stomach. Mrs McGregor is dead. His conscience is playing up, guilt at the thought of stealing a car pressuring his mind. He tries to remind himself that nobody will care, there _is_ nobody to care but he still feels terrible.

He tries to shake the feeling but he can't.

He ignores it instead.

Mrs McGregor's flat is on the sixteenth floor. They're on the seventeenth now. Theoretically, it should be easy for them to get down one flight of stairs. But when they hear the crash from the doors at the end of the corridor, hope is disappearing quickly.

There's another explosion and they hear the scraping of footsteps at the bottom of the steps.

It makes sense. In every film they have ever watched the infected have been drawn to noise. It would explain why there are currently corpses laid burning on the street.

Armed with their new revelation, the pair drag their hands away from the other and began their descent.

The stairs are quiet.

Too quiet.

The crushing silence is broken only by their shaky breathing and soft footfalls on cold concrete. Their weapons are held ready, knuckles turning white against the wooden handles. They're scared, their body language proves it, but neither will admit it to one another. Stay strong.

They arrive at floor sixteen, pushing the doors open with a barely audible creak that somehow seems louder than gunshot in current conditions. Dan's breathing is disjointed and quick, while Phil's is slow and deep. Both are trying to hold off their panic attacks.

The door shuts behind them.

Floor sixteen is a wreckage. Mrs McGregor's door is torn clean off it's hinges, a trail of blood shaped oddly like a body that is all too familiar.

The grief hasn't hit them yet.

Mrs McGregor is dead.

Seeing her apartment in this state makes the fact finally hit home. They killed Mrs McGregor.

The apartment's walls are smeared with splatters of blood. Dan retches at the sight, his stomach flipping. The air is rancid, and stiflingly hot. The kitchen window is shattered, thick smoke billowing through in graceful and deadly twirls through the broken shards.

Phil coughs, sucks in a final breath of clean air and steps into the cloud of smoke.

Dan wants to grab him to call out, but Phil has already disappeared too far and he can't see him. He hears a cough and some bangs and the smoke is getting thicker, it's going to swallow him too and he's scared. _He's scared._

He shouts just that.

The words roll off his tongue quickly, yet they're so hard to say. All of the walls he's ever built up, all of his courage and "manliness" that he's ever had crumble. He whispers it the next time, a tear beginning to well up in his eye as he realises how pathetic he sounds. He is stood, powerless, alone and completely useless in a dead woman's flat with a toxic cloud of smoke about to choke him to death.

Actually, no he's not pathetic. He has seen grown men sob after a few pints, but he's going to die and if he's weak for shedding a tear then they are low.

Just as the tear rolls down his cheek he is tackled to the ground.

* * *

**Does anyone mind if I reply to reviews here? Yes? Oh well here I go anyway.**

_**potatoes-are-not-for-sex: **_**thanks man, oh my god that means a load to me thank you so much. Well, here's the update you asked for c:**

_**NinjaInTheSky: **_**omg thanks so mcuh, bless you! Here's your update!**

_**Boo: **_**well here I am, thanks so much for your review man, it's great that you liked this!**


	3. Someone Get Me Outta Here

**_Series_: Can't You See It's Over**

**_Title_****: Somebody Get Me Outta Here**

**_Summary_****: Dan and Phil. Zombies. Great Britain is quarantined.**

**_Pairing_****: Danisnotonfire/AmazingPhil - Phan.**

**_Disclaimer_****: I don't own Dan or Phil but I own the story line and all OCs. The title of the series is taken from Muse's ****_Shrinking Universe_** **and the title of this chapter_ Jet's _song of the same name****.**

**_WARNINGS_****: graphic violence, death, gore, blood and guts, sexual references in later chapters, might even get to smut, language**

**_Rating_: this part M for gore**

**_AN_****: ****it's been like 20 trillion years and i'm so so sorry about that. i've been really busy with shows (we had a full week of rehearsals from four till ten and then five shows so don't hurt me) and i've also had really bad writers block. i've had this written for about a week but i wasn't sure about it but ah well here it is. also, i apologise about all the mistakes in previous chapters and the stuff that's probably in this on oh, but it's all been fixed now !1!**

* * *

Dan's scream is a high pitched wail of terror. His eyes clench shut, his whole body struggling against the weight pinning him down. He feels strong hands grab his face and he struggles more.

_Phil_.

Phil is still in the smoke, or maybe this thing savaging him is Phil. His scream is wavering, voice cracking. He is so scared. He can't breathe, he's so scared.

There's a sting of pain on his cheekbone and his scream roars back into life.

His skin had been broken, he is doomed.

As his final words, his last gift to the world, he chooses to save his friend.

And so he screams the only thing that he can think of: "Phil."

"Dan."

The answer comes quicker than he expects it to. It's also a lot closer. His still thrashing limbs slow, his screaming ends, and warily his eyes crack open.

Mere inches from his own face is Phil's, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. Phil's hands are holding onto his cheeks softly, soft hands brushing his cheekbones.

"You _fucker_!" Dan shouts, flipping his body and tossing Phil to the floor. "I thought I was going to die and you're fucking laughing about it!" He lets out a high pitched noise that's half a scream and half a groan.

Phil sits up softly, bringing his face to Dan's.

"I'm sorry." He whispers with a tender touch of lips.

Dan doesn't forgive him instantly. It's after a heated session of violent kisses that he finally feels his anger subside. It doesn't register with either of them that there's strange noises coming from the stairs, or that there's banging footsteps on the corridor outside the flat. All they hear is each other's jolty breathing and the sound of their lips moving against the other's.

Until there's the high pitched wail that could only be described as the sound of an undead war cry, the sound ringing in the empty hall for a few moments, but lingering in their minds for what they suspected was to be forever.

It's Phil who reacts first, shouting "move!" and bolting out of the door, Dan following quickly behind. Dan watches as Phil plants a sickening blow to the _things_ head, the body dropping to the ground. Phil has never looked so terrifyingly beautiful. They bolt down the stairs, footsteps, screams behind them, louder, louder. They're running over something sticky, a heavy rusty smell lingering in the air. They both know it's blood, they just can't admit it.

They're in the lobby, the door is just ahead of them and all around them undead are spilling. The gap is getting smaller and smaller, the infected getting closer and closer and too close. Their hands are nearly reaching them, tugging on their jackets. Sweat is dripping down their neck, breath coming in furious pants and they're so, so close.

Dan slams the door open.

They're into the sun, streaking towards the car and Phil is clicking the unlock button on the keys and the car beeps and they're still being tailed so closely. They slam into the doors and they're pulling them open and they're about to be reached. They slam the doors shut and the key is in the ignition and their breathing is heavy as the car roars into life. Dan screams "drive!" and Phil steps on it. There's the bangs of the car hitting bodies but neither care.

They've been driving for about five minutes when they finally catch their breath.

"You okay?" Phil asks. He glances over to the passenger seat and sees Dan's pale face. "No?"

Dan shrugs, pulling the hat from his head and wrinkling his nose at how sweaty it is and the patch of blood on the left ear. "Not really." He replies after a pause. "We're in a fucking quarantined country overrun by zombies, I don't think I'd be normal if I was."

Phil nods, humming and turning onto the M62.

The streets are empty and uninteresting and disconcerting. The pair are shifty and uncomfortable in the small space, eyes scanning for infected. Phil's trying to plan a route in his head, but he's been to Leeds maybe once or twice and it isn't a hard to reach city, but there's something telling him that they want to steer well clear of it.

The motorway is littered with abandoned cars and lorries but there's no one here. There's no infected, no humans. Just miles and miles of road and the quiet hum of their car engine. It's weird, Phil thinks, that the motorway is so quiet, considering how many people must have once been in these cars. People don't just disappear. They're still close to Manchester, maybe the infected have set routes there but there's an uneasy feeling in his stomach that tells him that there's something up.

They've been driving for about an hour when Phil decides to voice his concerns. "Dan?" He says softly, and Dan turns to look at him. He's blurry eyed and has obviously been sleeping. He nods. "I think we should completely avoid Leeds. Go to the coast maybe? I mean, at least then we'd have the advantage because we could find a boat or something?"

"Yeah." Dan agrees, voice still husky from sleep. "Leeds is probably not a good place right now, if it's anything like Manchester. Isn't Leeds like the third most populated place in England anyway?" Phil doesn't say anything. "So, we head to anywhere on the coast and we skip Leeds completely?"

"Yeah," Phil replies, "but we're gonna have to stop for petrol at some point or we'll have to steal another car, or I dunno, just something."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dan sees the body hurtling towards the car, notices how distinctly human it is, then sees the hoard behind it.

They're fucked.

* * *

**_PhanFictionz_: oh man thank you, hope this update lives up to the rest and doesn't suck too much, i was actually really nervous about posting this one because i'm really not sure if it's any good.**

**potatoes-are-not-for-sex: i hope this answers those questions alright, and aw i know poor dan. i'm trying to portray him as the really scared one because all zombie stories need one of them**

**PoeticJustice: i know, the mistakes i make are absolutely hideous. i always read through it like 10 billion times but [sherlock voice] there's always something and thank you so much aw**

**if you reviewed/followed/favourited seriously ily it makes my life [insert heart shape here because this site is shitty and won't let me]**


	4. B For Bull

**_Series_: Can't You See It's Over**

**_Title_****: B for Bull**

**_Summary_****: Dan and Phil. Zombies. Great Britain is quarantined.**

**_Pairing_****: Danisnotonfire/AmazingPhil - Phan.**

**_Disclaimer_****: I don't own Dan or Phil but I own the story line and all OCs. The title of the series is taken from Muse's ****_Shrinking Universe._**

**_WARNINGS_****: graphic violence, death, gore, blood and guts, sexual references in later chapters, might even get to smut, language**

**_Rating_: this part really isn't that bad but M for language ?**

**_AN_****: double update because i can #yolo. i'm on holiday and have far too much time on my hands so here i am posting the second chapter of today. (please point out mistakes because there will probably be loads even though i have read this through a few more times than i'd like to admit)****  
**

* * *

"Phil!" He shouts and the car swerves on the road, Phil jolting and for one dreaded second the car is out of control, but Phil steadies himself and the wheel. "Phil, look." Phil does. He sees the person running, the small silhouette and the hoard behind her of dead skin.

"We have to rescue her." He says, slamming the brakes on.

Dan is hysterical, screaming his anger at Phil but Phil won't listen, his eyes firmly trained on the person that is getting closer and closer to the car. The infected are right behind them and Dan is shouting and hitting Phil, desperation taking hold and they need to go or they'll become an infected and he's so scared. He screams that at Phil, but Phil doesn't react.

Phil's reversing slowly, car inching closer and closer and they can hear the infected's screams and there's terror mounting in their stomach's.

The hoard is bigger than they thought. It stretches on about twenty metres both ways from the human, and is an impossible depth to measure. There are thousands of infected, all screaming and howling and growling and wailing and it seems impossible that these things ever were human because they're violent and dead and they don't feel anything but they know that they only thing to do is to peel the skin of their victims, feast on them, rip them apart.

They're close, closer, closer.

Dan grabs Phil's hand.

The person wrenches the door open, screaming "go!" at Phil and the car is hurtling along the motorway.

For a few minutes there's complete silence, then Dan turns round to look at the person they have just rescued.

She's young, Dan sees that. She looks about thirteen, maybe, or even younger, Dan isn't sure. Her brown hair is messy and windswept, tanned skin grubby and there's a small cut on her cheekbone. Her eyes are brown and wide, girlishly happy and innocent, which is ironic. She's wearing a dog hat tied around her neck and doesn't seem to have any visible weapons. It's a wonder she survived.

She grins at him. "Thanks, guys, for saving me back there."

Phil is the first to reply. "You're welcome, I couldn't have left you there."

Dan mutters something under his breath about nearly dying, but agrees anyway. "So, what's your name?"

She pulls her hat off examining it, pausing for a second, then shrugging. "The names Bullshitter. Bull for short, if you'd like."

Dan nods slowly, glancing over at Phil awkwardly and shrugging slightly. "Is that really your name?" He asks after a moment of hesitation. She smirks, shaking her head and giggling.

"No, but I don't wanna give you my real name because I don't want you getting too attached. Cause if I get stuck in a hoard then I don't want you risking your arse to save me like you did back there." She grins again, laughing at Dan's expression of pure bewilderment. "Of course, you guys don't need to introduce yourselves, I'll think of a nickname for you. Hold on, it might be a while."

Phil snorts with laughter and Bull can't help but giggle too. She looks at the pair in the front, drinking in their attires. Her eyes stray on their intertwined fingers, eyebrows furrowing. "Guys, are you like a couple or?"

They separate their hands quickly, Dan shaking his head. "No. No, I'm not gay. We're just friends." He pauses and runs a hand through his hair. "It just got a bit intense waiting for you back there."

Bull nods slowly. "Sure..." She sighs, giving her hat one final inspection before pulling it back onto her head. "Let's get to know each other a bit, hmm?" She suggests and grins when Phil hums in agreement. "Erm, okay, what's your favourite colour?"

Dan snorts. "Bit of a lame question, if you ask me." He ignores her hiss of "shut up" and pauses for a second, thinking. "I'd say red, but blood, y'know? Like it used to be red but I've seen so much today that it's just... Maybe green?"

Bull agrees. "And you, Phil?" She says the name out of habit, name falling from her lips before she can stop it. She sees Phil's eyebrows raise and Dan's incredulous expression and winces. Shit. The atmosphere is suddenly awkward, air heavier than before and no one talks for a few minutes, trying to figure out what just happened while Bull hyperventilates because of her mistake.

"Bull? How did you know?" Phil asks. The girl in question is hiding behind her grubby hands, but peeks out when Phil talks. Frankly, she's surprised that Phil doesn't sound angry, or even shocked.

"I may be a fan..." Bull mumbles, blushing scarlet and covering her face again. "Of both you and Dan, but I didn't want you to know that because now it's awkward."

And then Dan and Phil burst into hysterical giggles.

It is not something that Bull ever anticipated happening. The idea of meeting her idols in a stolen car on the M62 after a miraculous escape from a hoard of zombies seems laughable. Her high pitched giggles mingle with the pair in the front's.

The car falls into comfortable silence, Bull's eyes falling shut and Dan holding Phil's hand once again.

Phil looks over at Dan, smiling at their joined hands then looking at the dashboard. The tank is half full. A voice in the back of his head chimes _half empty_ and he shudders, because a simple rest stop will not be possible. The tank was three quarters full when they first started driving, and that was about three hours ago. They're been going approximately seventy miles and hour, sometimes a lot slower, sometimes much faster. Phil reckons that they probably won't make it to the coast, but then he might be being paranoid.

Dan has fallen asleep and he twitches occasionally, squeezing his hand slightly. Phil is almost completely sure that he's having a nightmare.

His concentration on the road is waning, eyelids drooping yet it's not even eleven yet. He's hungry, too and he hasn't had anything to drink either. It all leads to the conclusion. He needs to take a break.

He drives for maybe twenty more minutes. His eyes are stinging when he finally pulls over and his stomach churning. His breathing is laboured and his head is throbbing and _god _he's going to pass out. He switches the engine off and the transition from the quiet rumble to complete silence is enough to wake Dan.

"Phil?" Dan mumbles groggily, squeezing his hand. "Wha' going on? You okay?" He slurs, turning to look at Phil, eyes red rimmed and cloudy.

"I just feel really ill, that's all." Phil replies, smiling loosely at Dan. "I'm fine... Oh, _god._" He says suddenly, forcing the car door open and stepping out of the car quickly, stomach lurching painfully and bile rising in his throat. He splutters, throwing up a sticky, yellow substance at his feet. Dan clambles over the seats to him, patting him on the back and running in soothing circles on his shoulder blades.

"Shit. I'm sorry Phil, I'll take over the driving?" He's panicking and Phil wants him to stop but he can't stop retching. "Do you need anything? Water? Some food?"

Phil nods and Dan goes on the hunt for snacks, finding some water and an oat bar. It's the only thing he can find in the bags that isn't either tinned or a large multi-pack and he curses Phil for not packing anything slightly more tasty. Fucking zombie apocalypses. When he's finished foraging in the bags, he climbs into the passenger seat, passes Phil the food and turns the engine on.

He indicates that he's about to pull out onto the road by habit, suddenly feeling sick to the stomach when he realises that there's no one on the road to warn and pulls out, trying to calm himself and pulling Phil's hand back into his own.

* * *

_**papayallama: **_**aw thank you so much, you're really cool too c: i'm hoping for pj and chris' survival but i'm making this up as i go along (i've got a loose plan in my head for the next few chapters) but i can't guarantee anything yet. [hugs]**

**_TheAdelaide9_: aw thank you! i really really love zombie stories so this is like a dream to write!**

_**potatoes-are-not-for-sex**_**: you, sir, are incredible! thank you so much for all your reviews, they really make my day and you're an complete angel, thank you so much for all your support on this story. and thank you! you're review inspired me heavily to get this chapter out quickly.**

**[hugs anyone who's read this because you're all sweeties] thank you so much to you all god bless**


	5. Really Gay

"Can I drive yet?" Bull's voice comes from the back seats where she is lounging comfortably, legs propped up on the bags. She's grabbed a packet of caramel Digestives ("I haven't eaten properly in days," was her argument and Dan didn't have to heart to say no) and is happily munching on them, occasionally throwing her crumbs at a sleeping Phil.

Dan laughs and shakes his head. "Bull, you're like thirteen."

"I'm fourteen you fucker. Get it right."

"And that's exactly why I'm not letting you drive, because you're rude and far too young." Dan says, glancing back for a second and meeting her cold glare. He turns round quickly, still feeling her eyes burning into the back of his head.

"Is this really how you'd treat a fan?"

Dan snorts, rolling his eyes and focusing on the road. He glances at the dash, noticing that the tank is running low. There was a pile up about twenty miles back, meaning that he had to keep the speed down, paranoid that the speed of the car of the sound of the engine would leave them prey to the hoard. It has taken four hours to even get into the vicinity of Leeds, a drive which should take an hour and a half.

Bull throws more crumbs at Phil, laughing when he sneezes, then smothering her giggles as he starts to wake. Phil makes a series of snuffling noises which they both, even if they don't say anything, find incredibly cute.

Dan spots a petrol station. It's now or never, he thinks. He hasn't seen any signs of the infected in the past half hour, a promising sign, he believes, and pulls into the service station. Phil is awake now, glaring at the pile of crumbs he has just extracted from his hair. Bull is in the back trying to stifle more hysterical giggles.

It's wrong, Phil thinks, to be this cheery during a zombie infestation. They're in a quarantined country, not a movie and he has a feeling that this optimism is going to be evaporating as night falls. He has never been this pessimistic, always being the optimist himself, but in this situation he finds it impossible to not have a grasp of reality. This is not a video game, this is a real, god awful apocalypse.

The car pulls to a stop. "Right." He finds himself saying, taking control of the situation because maybe he likes the power, maybe it makes him feel a little more secure here. "Dan you fill the tank. I'll get supplies from the services and look for more survivors. Bull, will you keep lookout? Please?" Bull nods affirmative. Dan shakes his head.

"I am not letting you go in there alone." He says firmly, undoing his seat-belt and stepping out of the car. "I'm not dragging your dead body from a fucking WHSmith. Fucking hell, Phil, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I get food for us, or we die." He says, scrambling out after Dan.

Dan throws his hands in the air with exasperation. Fucking typical Phil, stubborn and yet always fucking right. "Why don't you just help us with the tank, Phil! Priorities! We have enough food to last us the next few days and if you die getting food that's completely unnecessary I swear to god I will see you in hell."

Bull watches the exchange silently, now out of the car too, and is torn between quiet amusement and the awkward feeling that she's intruding. At Dan's last comment she decides to step in. "Woah, woah, woah. Okay. Let's stop there." Her interruption goes unnoticed.

Dan steps forward, hands raised and both Bull and Phil are so sure that he's going to hit him, but then they curl around his neck, dragging him forward and slamming their lips together. Bull has the overwhelming urge to look away, the moment so personal that even glancing at the interlocked couple felt wrong. The kiss lasts a good few minutes, Bull turning her back at the forty second mark and scanning the area for any possible threats.

The kiss is fast, violent clashing of tongues and teeth, Dan panting and Phil moaning low in his throat.

Dan drags himself back. Phil's lips are swollen and glistening red, pupils dilated and chest heaving. His hands are shaking. Phil heaves him forward by his waist, this kiss gentler, a soft pressing of lips lasting less than half a minute. They pause, foreheads touching. They smell like blood and vomit and sweat, still beautiful to the other, and their skin is clammy, neither care.

"So, let me get this straight," Bull says, interrupting what may have just been a very pivotal moment in their friendship. They turn to face her, prompting her to go on. "You're two friends, right, that are one hundred percent _not_ gay but make out all the time and hold hands?"

Phil nods sheepishly, glancing at Dan for backup. Dan just coughs and shifts his feet around, grunting a yes.

"That's _really_ gay." Bull says frankly. "Now that that's all cleared up, let's move."

They grab weapons, Phil still stuck with his frying pan and Dan still with the baseball bat. Bull grabs a bag from the car. How had they not noticed the bag before? From inside she pulls five bullets and a revolver, silently loading the gun while they stare on in horror. "I was with a group of survivors before you found me. They got me kitted up before abandoning me on the shitting motorway." She says, answering unspoken questions. "Let's go."

Phil pecks Dan's cheek, giving his hand a final squeeze before running off into the services. Dan doesn't remember agreeing to it, but lets him go and starts on the tank.

The centre smells of smoke and vomit and there's an unsteady feeling on his chest. All of his instincts are kicking in, _do not travel alone, watch your back_, and the more primal, basic reactions. _Fight or flight_, adrenaline kicking in, hands shaking even more around the handle of the pan. He creeps past a McDonald's, charred embers still flickering slightly, air heavy with smoke and heat. He has to escape the cloud, the heat, he wants to cough so badly. He mustn't cough.

His steps are slow and cautious, eyes scanning the ground before he moves. He steps past a dismembered arm, nearly screaming when his shoe knocks against it but he catches himself and slowly breathes out. There is no sign of life here. No survivors.

Phil unzips his bag as quietly as possible, then starts loading fresh food into it. Bull has already emptied the bag onto the back seats of the car, the bag now completely empty. He places twelve bottles of water in the bottom, then sandwiches. He is going to collect crisps before he stops and rethinks, stepping away from the aisle. He grabs chocolate, two tubes of Pringles, _they're not too noisy right?_ and a caffeine drink, colourful label screaming _12 hours of energy!_

He walks out of the doors.

Then the sirens start.

It's so bloody obvious that Phil curses himself, of course the fucking alarms would go off is he doesn't pay for the food. It's such a simple reminder of normal, modern-day life, a reminder of how sharp the change was. This time last week if this had happened to him he would have been unbelievably embarrassed, but in the same predicament only seven days later he's fearing for his life.

He starts to run. he hears footsteps behind him, multiple footsteps and he wants to know where they've come from. He is going to die, he feels it with every fibre of his body yet he still runs, primal human instinct driving him on, on. Heart pumping in his head, gasping for air lungs filling with smoke. He's spluttering, he can't go on, this is it.

He trips.

His body flies forward, knees hitting cold tiles and then his chest. There's growls behind him, he's crying. he's going to die.

He never thought it would be like this, never thought that he'd be taken from the world this way. He had always thought that in this situation he'd do a little bit better. When he used to be bored he'd daydream of things like this happening, think of his survival tactics, make a list in his head. It all seemed like a game, a childish, fun little game. Nothing that could ever affect him.

But here, about to be cannibalized by something that isn't really human anymore, this is not a game. This is his death.

As the howls get louder, hope draining he does the last thing he can think to.

"_DAN!_"

* * *

**well sorry about that guys. THAT IS NOT THE END THERE WILL BE MORE! i'll try and get the interlude up sometime today.**

**Sasaphrinascream: aw thank you! i really like bull, too. she's just really easy to write, like sometimes i don't even have to think of what to do next and she'll just do it for me.**

**Emily: thank you so much lovely! i have plans regarding chris and pj and their fate is pretty much sealed now. things are hopefully gonna get excited now that the damned car bit is nearly over.**

**Moustache-Kun: thank you so much! here's your update and i really hope that it doesn't disappoint!**

**darkweepingtimeeater: thank you and here you go! [ships you cake]**

**potatoes-are-not-for-sex: thank you so much, again. idek where that line came from, she just kinda made me write it. she's such a vivid character that i find i don't have to write her at all, like i said. at first i wasn't going to make her a fan but i'm glad that it worked how it was meant to!**

**guest: thank you! i was a bit worried about the fan part, too, but i'm going to try and make it less like she's a fan, more of a character of her own that happens to know who they are.**

**also, this story has it 500 views! i'm blown away, i never thought it would ever reach that, so thank you thank you thank you, [hugs you all really tightly]**


	6. Interlude

This is death. Flames are flickering around me, searing hot and blindingly bright and I reach for him, bringing him closer, matted, bloodied hair sticking to my cheek. I plant a kiss to his forehead, eyes fluttering shut as I hear another bang.

A howl, low in one of the creatures throat, guttural and primal and ready to kill.

Death.

There are heavy footfalls, dragging and scraping and more groans and growls.

In my last minutes I pull him closer, spinning him so he faces me in my arms and I have to tell him, I have to say it.

There's more bangs closer to us, closer.

"We're going to die, aren't we?" He whispers against my lips. I nod.

"I-" I am cut off by the explosion, my screams replacing words that I was supposed to say, words he was meant to hear. My ears ring, his hands clutching at my waist, dragging me closer and I can feel a tear slipping down my cheek.

The heat is closer and closer, no longer howls but instead deranged screams and I try to find my voice but I can't.

Death.

[End Of Part One]


	7. N876-HJY Part Two

**hey guys look who is is. i did a thing. im being cruel i know but we have now entered part two of this story. this is gonna be really fun, guys. there's gonna be a load of action now that they're finally out of that car and a great deal of cliffhangers and plot twists. the scene has been set and now it's about to get real.**

**so here's an explainy chapter and also something that completely ignores the previous plot twist.**

* * *

The sun is beginning to set. Silhouetted by the flaming cars ahead of them on the stretch of motorway almost impassable, they begin their hunt.

This is their routine and has been for five days now; the South of the UK has been infected for a week, only spreading to northern regions in the night. Anything south of Nottingham essentially was cut off, fake news streamed to the North and the rest of the world, with the Government's hope that it would hide their blame.

In the rolling hills of Devon top-secret military bases were set up. Here the most atrocious of experiments came to happen, deadly diseases grown and modified till they became known as "superbugs", capable of wiping out whole cities as effectively as the atomic bomb, yet impossible to trace back to the administer. Top secret government reports state that these bases have been running since the start of World War One and are thought to be the root of Spanish Influenza, yet the necessary reports to prove this theory have been destroyed and all workers passed away.

In the largest base N876-HJY was bred. First tested in sterile conditions, it seemed like a miracle drug, able to seemingly bring dead cells "back to life". Given its name Anima, Latin for breath of life, the drug was moved onto larger scale testing. First used on dead mice, the drug was able to hyper speed recovery and resurrect animals that had been dead for less than twenty-four hours. It was tested on a range of animals, small and large alike and deemed safe for human test.

The first test with human cells was extremely positive, damaged cells repairing themselves alarmingly quickly.

When the first test was to be carried out, Jennifer Smith volunteered. Diagnosed with lung cancer and given only two months left, she faced the risk with the hope that she would recover from what would inevitably kill her.

She was administered with a tiny dosage. The cancerous cells either died or righted themselves, her body reacting well to the drug. She was injected with the full dose the next day. In the few hours after she took the drug she reported feeling uncomfortable, frustrated and upset. It was put down as a side effect to the medication.

After checks she was announced cancer free.

Her checkup the next morning showed unprecedented side effects.

Overnight, her body had rejected the drug and it had mutated. What was previously a drug now a disease.

Symptoms are uncontrollable rage, decay of the body, swelling of the brain and loss of memory, inhibitions and human ability.

Unintentionally, the British Government had created the first ever zombie.

While Jennifer's life could have been terminated, N876-HJY destroyed and Project Anima cancelled, the scientists in the base decided to collect more research.

The disease is not airborne, instead transmitted through human contact. It takes thirty seconds from infection for the disease to take hold but can take weeks for it to kill.

Jennifer died of starvation after three weeks. She had infected four people.

These four people were kept under strict care. Restrained at all times and kept sedated, these four were kept in the most inhumane way possible.

The smallest mistake one of the new staff made caused the infection's spread. It is not known why it happened, however, what is known is that a newly recruited doctor was bitten and infected. The infection spread, first inside the base then outside. After a week, most of the south of the country was infected.

The rest of the country was not told.

By smothering the truth and real events, the United Kingdom's leaders effectively wiped out their own nation.

And as he walks after the three others in his survivor group, metal briefcase clutched tightly in his hands, he remembers the first thing he ever wrote on the N876-HJY case.

_It seems far too good to be true._

"Doc, you okay there bud?" He looks up at the concerned eyes of Pomf, the leader of the group. He was the first person he met outside of the military base and they got on well enough, Pomf a very agreeable guy and Doc never one for confrontation and friendly enough. Neither knew each other's name or story, yet there was a certain closeness between the pair that was born of being partners, fighting together, not dissimilar to the friendship of two soldiers in the same platoon.

They stop watching the other two walk further, stopping and leaning over to look at something, just out of sight.

"I don't know, really."

Pomf smiles warmly, patting him on the shoulder. "Well, alright mate. We 'ave about ten minutes till them two get bored."

"I'm just feeling a bit weird, y'know?"

"Yeah, I get ya. What is there ta do though, cause if you 'adn't quite noticed, we're in a zombie infestation and if that ain't enough to make you feel a bit odd in the 'ead, I don't know what is." Doc agrees.

"Is he dead?" Podge asks, meanwhile, nudging him with his toe.

"Podge! Don't do that!" Dave says as calmly as possible as it is for one to address Podge. Dave is notoriously patient, calm and has undisputed nerves of steel. As the only girl in the group she has the most unfortunate and ironic nickname possible, but it had been her idea. _Toughen yourself right up._

"Why?"

"Because it's disrespectful to do that to a corpse." She pauses and leans over the body. "And I don't think that he's dead. She points at him, Podge kneeling next to him and prodding his cheek."He's still Doc over here, give him a check-up, yeah?"

Podge glances over his shoulder at the two men talking to each other about twelve metres away, behind the burnt out shell of a Ford Focus. "Oi Doc! Pomf! Get your arse's over here!"

"Podge! Don't shout, I've told you so many times!"

"Whatever."

He looks over his shoulder, sighing when the other two haven't even looked in his direction and stands up.

He grins at the girl sat on the ground next to the boy, ambles off in the direction of the still conversing two men. He drags one leg behind him, twitching his arms and hissing, desperately trying to stop himself from laughing as he sees the two jump and grab their weapons. He can't help but let out a bark of laughter when he sees the look on Doc's face, but he is cut short when he is attacked from the side, a blur of brown pushing him to the ground and knocking the air from his lungs.

The thing growls and Podge tries to fight him off. He hears the rest of his team's running footsteps but under the creatures grasp he cannot move.

"Where is he?" The thing demands, grabbing his wrists and restraining them above his head. "I will not repeat myself again: _where is he_?"

It takes Podge a moment to adjust, but when he opens his eyes he is confronted by hazel eyes, wide and almost intimidating if it wasn't for the cracks that were beginning to show in his tough act.

"Please… Just tell me." His voice breaks and Podge suddenly feels pity for the poor guy.

"He's… Over there." He chokes out. The guy isn't particularly heavy but leaning on his chest as he is, breathing isn't easy. He seems to realise this and let's go of his wrists, standing and whispering his apology.

Podge sits and gasps, hitting his chest once and coughing. "We haven't moved him. He's wherever you left him."

"Oh."

"Yeah, anyway we were just gonna check him up, he don't seem too good. He's still out cold." Podge replies, accepting Pomf's hand standing up.

"Am I?" The voice comes from behind them, the whole group jumping before catching themselves.

"PJ?" The man breathes, rushing forward and almost knocking him over with a rib crushing hug. PJ laughs, snuggling his face into Chris' hair and snaking his arms around his back. "We're still alive, y'know?"

PJ laughs again and if possible, clutches him tighter. "Yeah, we are aren't we?"

* * *

**confession: the original plan was to have chris and pj die a brutal death and make it a main plot point but then i had ideas and this happened instead. THEY'RE ALIVE PRAISE JESUS**

**also a* to anyone who sees the correlation between this chapter and the interlude.**

**_TheAdelaide9_: DON'T PANIC NO ONE IS DEAD YET NOBODY IT WAS WRITTEN TO TWIST YOUR EMOTIONS BECAUSE I AM EVIL NO DEATH**

**_Emily_: you'll just have to wait and see, but that sounds really cool actually [notes it down as potential future plot]**


	8. Communication

update time woo! lots and lots of plot setting here yay and im not gonna reply to comments because it's 11 but i saw them and they were lovely, and i'll reply on the next chapter! and because it's late if you do spot a mistake do point it out pretty please

* * *

"Guys, I hate to interrupt but we need to get moving." Dave says, pulling the two apart gently from their embrace. "It's almost dark and we have to get to base before sunset. We can get pleasantries over and done with on the way."

"It's a shame you two broke our no name rule, but anyway, yeah. I'm Sir Pomfrey - not my choice, mind - but everyone calls me Pomf." Chris and PJ look with incredulity at Pomf. Tall, around six-foot five and bald, with a toothy grin, kind eyes and a thick Yorkshire accent, he's the opposite of his name. He's wearing a Red Hot Chilli Peppers t-shirt, originally white but now bloodied and covered in mud and a pair of faded grey jeans ripped around the knees and filthy. "It's meant to be ironic." He says after a beat of awkward silence. "Yeah, so I'm the group's leader, like. You're welcome to join us, yeah. We have food and space for you to stay, if you'd want."

Chris nods. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Alright! Great!" Pomf slaps them both on the back. "Anyway introductions."

He points at a shorter man with slightly greying hair, dark eyes and frown lines. When he realises that he is being called on to present himself his face cracks into a grin, eyes seeming to light up with his smile. "I'm Doc, I'm the medic around here. Yeah. Welcome to the team."

Pomf points to the two that are slightly ahead, locked in conversation. "They're the oddballs here, great ones though. The girl, that's Dave and the really thin one? That's Podge. Irony."

Podge turns around, then, grinning at the pair and reaching out a hand for them to shake. He's almost skeletally thin and angular, jutting cheekbones and a chiselled jaw among his most striking features. His hands are cold, fingers long and thin and almost feminine but strong and slightly calloused. He's short, the smallest in the group by about three inches; maybe five six, five seven and he seems so small, so fragile that it's a miracle he's even still alive. His hair is impossible, black but streaked with blue almost fading to green at the ends and sticking up in messy tufts and peaks. His eyes are strikingly blue, a lot like Phil's, Chris thinks, but darker and even though the man can't be over seventeen his eyes seem to possess something that make him seem much older. He shakes their hands vigorously and even when he's taken his hand away he's still fidgeting and then Chris can see how he outran the zombies.

Dave hugs them both with a typically girly smile, flipping a strand of blond hair over her shoulder and giggling. She's pretty and sweet with large green eyes but she's smeared with blood and dirt and it's almost laughable. She looks like a student wearing a Halloween costume not a real girl covered in real blood.

Pomf is explaining the circumstances. Their base is a coach house, large enough to house the original residents and a good twenty survivors if nobody minds sharing rooms and sleeping on the floor. They have medical equipment and food and there's already four more survivors there. They're about thirty miles from the coast and when the group are healthy enough to move then they'll be heading there. Most importantly; they have a generator, they have heat, electricity and they have the most crucial thing /communication/. They have radio signal and they have internet.

"How, though?" PJ asks and Pomf shrugs.

"Let Podge explain, he does it better."

Podge tries to hide his enthusiasm and fails, running back to them as if he's been listening to the conversation the whole time (he probably has). "Alright so the UK is quarantines, right? Yeah, so that means that outside of the UK there are countries that don't want us out, countries that don't want the disease. And if you think, a lot of people have satellite and shit like that. Using the 3G on my phone which comes from a satellite" He says it slowly as if the two had never heard of such a thing as a satellite. "And, I've hacked into the MOD."

It takes Chris and PJ a few moments to fathom that Podge actually means that he hacked into the Ministry of Defence and that he isn't joking.

"It wasn't that hard really. Just had to break the encryption code and then bam, y'know. Right in there." He says in response to their incredulous expressions. "After that it was simply sending distress signals to everyone I could, gave them co-ordinates, the like." By now he is gesticulating wildly, hands flying and fingers twitching with restless excitement. "Seems no one is interested, we got ignored completely. May as well have told us to bugger off, really. Hey, we got internet though. Managed to twist some things so if you've got Twitter or something, you can go all out."

"Have you got enough for YouTube?" Chris asks and Podge nods, humming and giving him a questioning look. "Probably gonna have to update our subs on the situation. Let 'em know how we are."

"You popular on there, then?"

PJ shrugs, answering the question that was openly aimed at the both of them. "Mildly."

The conversation fades into nothing, Podge leaving the two to walk slightly to the left of the group, just out of earshot yet still close enough to not feel entirely alone.

"So.." Chris starts, not completely sure how to approach the topic he is about to breach on, a topic that most would inevitably shy from. "How many do y' think are…"

"Dead?" PJ finishes, looking at Chris pointedly. "I dunno, most of them. Probably everyone we know."

Chris gulps. PJ is exceptionally cold, voice a still monotone and he's being brutally blunt. His face is twisted into a fake smile, eyebrows furrowed and there might be tears in his eyes, but Chris isn't fully sure. He places a hand on PJ's forearm, squeezing slightly and watches for his reaction. There isn't one. Chris is sure that PJ wants him to speak, hell he wants to speak but words won't come and he's panicking a bit, but then there's also the struggle of his own.

_His parents and friends are gone. His friends are gone. His home is gone. His career is gone. His life is gone._

It is as if everything he has ever known is gone and with that parts of himself that he threw up to protect himself have come crumbling down. He has always had his secrecy, an excuse, some way of keeping slivers of himself to himself, parts of himself nobody ever saw. His life before was so hectic, so filled with unremarkable objects that nothing was ever really in focus but without distractions he has nothing but himself to face and when he digs, he doesn't like what he finds. The staggering loss of everything he loves, every_one_ but one leaves just him and Mark to pick up the pieces and rebuild. There are no foundations, he was sad before and it's a feeling he knows he is far too acquainted with and he wishes that he hadn't distracted himself back then. If he had tried to fix himself when all of the building blocks were still there he could pick himself up, but here, emotionally alone bar one, there is nothing to pick him up again. He is sad. The kind of sadness which is bone crushing and thick and leaves a layer of haze which seems almost impenetrable. And he is despairing.

PJ smiles at him. It's hardly a smile, more of a soft raising of the corner of the lips but it's not fake and it's PJ and it's worth something. There's a flicker of hope and then PJ drapes his arm over his shoulder and Chris threads his arm around his waist and he hasn't lost everything. He's lost a lot, but not everything.

"_God_, how do you think everyone's holding up?" PJ asks tentatively. He has been watching Chris' face, watching as his eyes clouded over, his brows knit together and the lines on his forehead become more prominent.

Chris shrugs as best as he can under PJ's arm. "I reckon there's not much of them left. Not my parents. They were in London."

"Wait… Aren't your parents in France?"

"What?"

"Chris, didn't you say that your parents were on holiday in Nice this week? Wouldn't that make them safe?" PJ feels the rush of warmth in his chest as it dawns on Chris, the realisation hitting him and the happiness of his friend nearly overwhelms his own grief for a moment. _Nearly_.

"Yeah… They are!" He hears the glee in Chris' voice and smiles wider.

"Shit, what about all our friends?"

Chris shrugs, smile falling. "Dan and Phil and…"

"Oh my God where do you think they are?" PJ's tone is light, but there's the obvious worry behind it. It's almost like he's straining to keep himself happy.

"Where do you think Phil is?" And little do they know it, but less than a hundred miles away Dan is asking the same question.


	9. The Death Scene In Which No One Dies

**why am i uploading again wow im speedy sometimes**

**don't get your hope us too much though because i have to go back to school on tuesday so i won't have as much writing time**

* * *

Dan hears screaming. Hopeless, desperate screaming and then his name and he's snatching the gun from Bull and he's running. Nothing feels real, heart thumping erratically and everything seems lost. His ears are ringing, thighs burning and lungs protesting but he's never giving up, _never_. The tears are flowing and he hears Bull screaming behind him, her footsteps catching up with him.

_Phil is going to die and it is going to be his fault._

He is gasping and crying and everything is blurring around him and his head is spinning. _Phil_.

He takes the steps three at a time, chest heaving, and shoves the glass doors to the side.

Grey tendrils of smoke engulf him almost immediately, his hand flying to his scarf to pull it up, but not before breathing in a mouthful of thick, heavy smoke. His eyes itch.

In here the screams are louder, higher and more frenzied and he recognises them instantly as Phil and he's running again. A hoard comes into view and they're all centred around one thing, a bubbling and howling mass of rotting limbs.

He hears a choked sob.

_Phil_.

In that one moment there is fear and only fear. He has to go in, he has to die just so Phil can live and with everything he can he tries to step forward. The step is tiny. This is not his time, he is not ready to die, he does not want to die but then Phil is screaming again, harder and he hears his name and the word love and he realises that in this life the only thing left living for is getting torn apart. Because the only thing left that he loves is not going to be left for long at all and without Phil he would be nothing and he will be nothing if he doesn't do something.

Phil dies or they die together.

And in one resounding moment of courage Dan pushed his way into the hoard.

And Bull watches, powerless to the scene that unfurls in front of her, powerless to the death of the two people who prevented hers.

Her hand reaches into her pocket, hand curling around cool metal and her chest rises and falls, rises, falls and she hears more screams from within the hoard and she's crying even though she never cries and then she pulls it out of her pocket.

She opens her mouth and screams. She screams for everything, for herself, for her saviours, for the loss that she's built up barriers to forget about but has never really left her mind and she screams.

The hoard are moving towards her now, previous victims forgotten and disturbingly silent and screams still, desperate and pained and strong. Her note never wavers and there's no air left in her lungs yet she still continues and then the hoard are nearly all around her.

There's the stench of rotting flesh and blood and vomit and everything that has ever happened to her is leading up to this. This is her leap of faith, her last chance to save them and she stops.

She's gasping, re-filling her lungs then she's screaming again and stepping backwards. They're following her and she can hear the gurgling of the blood rising in their throats and the scraping of their feet and the grunts and growls from their chests. She is face to face with death, face to face with everything that was ever impossible yet so dreadfully realistic and she never really thought that death was a sense but she knows it is now.

Death is something that is overwhelming, it is a smell, a taste, a sound, a feeling, a sight and it's always there but here it is so prominent that it becomes them all, blurring the edges of her vision, all other problems that she has ever faced so irrelevant in perspective.

Clawing hands and whines and moans and the sheen of terror that clouds her vision and she takes a breath.

She bends over, one knee on the floor.

Pulls the pin;

Places the grenade on the floor, bolting to the side and running, running, explosion looming.

_Three..._

She can hear the confused scuffling of feet, of the infected getting their bearing.

_Two..._

She glances across the room and she sees their bodies, tangled together, Phil lying almost completely on top of Dan, shielding him.

_One..._

She throws herself to the ground and she falls, arms wrapped tightly around ears and face, bright light leaking into her brain and shattering glass, and her ears are ringing and everything is silent. There's a monotone beep and her shallow breathing and she pulls herself up.

There's a pile of dead infected. Some still twitching.

She checks herself. There are no bites. She counts to thirty. Still human.

And then she's running again and she skids to a stop by the two unmoving bodies on the floor.

Phil sits up.

His eyes are distant, terrified, unblinking.

"Were you bitten?"

Phil does not move, does not respond, eyes staring straight through her.

"_Were you bitten?_"

Phil does not respond, eyes darting from her face to Dan's still body and he's so still.

Bull's hand snaps across his face, the sharp sound of the slap echoing in the now silent hall. Phil hardly flinches.

Bull panics.

And then Bull remembers and the scene is changing, morphing.

The eyes aren't blue anymore, they're wide and large and brown and so, so scared. The eyes are contorting, veins bursting and eyes staining red. The trickle of blood down his cheek, like a scarlet tear, twisted grimace of agony. The face is shifting, skin darkening, hair lightening.

The face is no longer Phil's and there's more tears now, streaks of blood staining cheeks and he opens his mouth.

"Save me." And it's not Phil's voice, it's _his_ voice.

"_No!_" Bull's voice shatters, "I can't! There's nothing I can do!" And then her hand goes for her gun holding it to his head and she's about to press the trigger and-

Dan's weight forces her to the right, gun slipping out of her hand and she's hysterical, sobs wracking her shoulders and _there's nothing she can do_.

She squeezes her eyes shut and when she opens them again Phil is looking at her, confused and terrified and she whispers "I'm sorry" then Dan pulls her into his chest and she sobs.

And she sobs.

Dan's arms are strong and soft but they're not the arms she wants and she needs someone else but that someone she will never find. Dan strokes her hair and whispers in her ear and then she pushes him away. She's stopped crying now, tremors still shaking her shoulders and stuttering her breathing.

"I'm sorry," she chokes and wipes her eyes. Phil shuffles over on his knees, wrapping his arms around her and patting her back.

"It's okay." Phil whispers and there's a moment of relief, then pure euphoria. They have survived again.

"We're going to go back to the car and we're going to talk about this and what did I fucking tell you, Phil?" Dan says, helping them both up and grabbing the rucksack from the ground. "Told you so."

And despite everything, Bull and Phil both manage to giggle.


	10. We're Always Strong

**eyo i'm here. school has been hellish and i've had a hella lot of work to with with revision and auditions for musicals. this chapter took far far too long to write, especially the ending which was a challenge, let's say. this was originally the shortest chapter yet (other than interlude) but then during editing i added so so much and it is now the longest chapter yet. i found this really cool indie playlist which had some really good songs on while writing the final part of this chapter and editing and that inspired a certain event in this, so thank them. i do not own any of the songs mentioned or dan and phil, but may i add that all other characters are my own completely (except podge) and so is the plot so no stealing !1! as always, feel free to point out typos or mistakes bc i'm dumb**

**[also if any of you want, i have twitter but it isn't phandom (it's muse lol) but it's museodynamics]**

* * *

"So, Bull. Would you care to explain what just happened?" Dan asks in mock seriousness, pretending to shuffle some papers and readjust his no existent glasses as it he is interviewing her; anything to lighten the mood, he reasons. The air is still undeniably tense and there's still the undertone of worry and unadulterated terror behind his voice, although well hidden. There should be, he thinks, they almost died back there, but it wouldn't be like himself if he didn't try to turn it into a joke and mock the whole bloody thing.

Bull sighs. "I haven't told you anything, have I?" And she sounds so down and serious that it's hard that she's really the same dog hat wearing, zombie slaying girl that they picked up that morning. Phil shakes his head.

They're huddled the backseats of the car, Phil in middle, back leaning on Dan's chest and Bull facing them almost awkwardly. Dan is stroking Phil's hair, who is still considerably shaken up, but doing a good job is staying relatively calm. In fact, if he wasn't Dan he wouldn't be able to tell that Phil was worried at all; only he would notice the small tremor in Phil's right hand and how he was blinking more than normal. He kisses Phil's hair _ew gross sweaty_ and pulls him closer to him. Phil exhales a shuddery sigh.

"Okay." Bull starts. There's a certain fondness in her eyes as she watches the _absolutely no way never _couple in front of her, but they are still cast down, brown watery with tears. "My survivors group was small. There was only a few of us. Me, my dad, me best friend, this guy that was like a young Matt Bellamy - really hot, I mean wow -" she pauses and smiles, grinning at them and winking, "this medic dude that knew loads about the zobs-"

"What did you just call them?" Phil is giggling as he asks the question, and adds, "I like it! We should all call them that!"

"Zobs, yeah. That's what my other group called them." She runs a hand through her hair and sighs. "There was another girl, never liked her, she liked Bellamy guy too and there was some sort of conflict between us because _god_ he was hot." She knows that she has their full attention by now, the pair hanging onto every word she says and at this point she could probably say that she was Hitler's granddaughter and they'd be impressed. "We were really functional other than that, though, kept it professional. I woulda risked my life for them all even though we made it a rule that we weren't allowed to do that. Sorta like if one person dies that's no loss cause we never really knew each other. No first names sorta thing." She gasps. "That reminds me, you don't know my name yet."

Dan hums eagerly, prompting her and she shakes her head mumbling "later".

"So they kitted me up and we were all prepared. Then we got ambushed, if you can call it that, by this group of zobs. Massive group. I got isolated from the group and I heard my dad screaming but they wouldn't let him come for me and they were all around me. They were- they were going to get me and I was going to die and-" She's cut off by a choking sob and stops to compose herself. She's trying desperately to keep her tone light but ultimately failing. "And then I heard my friend pushing his way through and then he clung to me and then he was screaming and I didn't know why and then he was changing and he was screaming more and more and then just before he was changed fully he whispered 'save me' and I shot him. I shot him."

Her body crumples and Phil catches her as she sobs and Dan is trying to quieten her.

"I managed to outrun them. That's when you found me."

Phil remembers the girl they picked up, the girl who was invincible, strong and yet sociable, witty and sarcastic. The girl he aspired to be like even though she was twelve years younger than him. The girl who had just had to shoot her best friend and lose the only bit of stability left in her life. He thinks what it would be like if he had to do the same with Dan and finds that thoughts like that are almost impossible and painful and he can't comprehend how much she must be hurting.

He remembers the frenzied terror on her face when she thought Phil was changing, how the gun in her hand was shaking and her eyes were streaming and how she was whispering "no, no, no" and it all makes sense. He remembers how assertive she was, how she sobbed as she raised the gun and thinks and thinks. He thinks about what it would have been like if it were reversed or if it was him and Dan and his heart clenches painfully and _lord _he doesn't understand and he hopes he never will but he can emphasise. He imagines her conscience, scarred with the guilt of killing someone so dear, someone innocent and he imagines it must be like the small pang he feels each time his pan connects with an infected's head but so, so much worse. Because no matter how many times Phil tries to tell himself overwise the infected still feel like humans to him, innocent humans. He is not a bad person and the strain on his conscience is painful. He thinks. Bull's pain is torture.

"It's okay. We've got you now." Phil whispers and Bull blows her nose.

"I just want my dad." She whispers. Phil almost feels angry, but he understands. He's trying so hard to be there for her, but he's never quite doing enough, not quite. "I'm sorry, but you're just not him, y'know? You're not the same guy who picked me up when I fell off my scooter at five or who went to every single one of my shows." She sighs. "It's not that you're no good, it's that you're not my dad. Can I tell you about my dad, I want to talk about him? I think it'll help."

Dan and Phil nod.

It's curious, Dan thinks, that when a human is so pained they can be so strong. Even crying Bull is strong, she resonates it, positive energy and stamina and mental power is everything she is. And then in her moments of pain she tackles it head on, pinpointing the source and righting it, carefully lying out her life and easing out the folds.

"He loves music. He really loves music. He plays bass and he's been in a band since he was fourteen. He likes listening to music all the time and he had the best CD and record collection I'd ever seen. I bought him a Red Hot Chilli Peppers t-shirt, y'know the white one with the logo?" Phil nods. "And he's tall! He's taller than you Dan! He's six-foot five and he was too tall for some of the rides at Alton Towers. He didn't mind though, he said he just liked seeing me happy and if going on rides made me happy then he was happy to watch. I miss him." She picks up one of Phil's hands, tugs at the fingers and then drops it, sighing.

She is positively glowing with pride as she talks about her Dad, a long ramble, continuing long after Dan has clambered into the front seat and is driving. She's still crying softly, but she's smiling, now, too, even if only slightly.

She eventually falls silent, sentence tailing into nothing. Phil coos over her quietly when he realises she's fallen asleep and the climbs into the front with Dan.

"So, Phil, what the _fuck_ did you think you were doing risking your life back there?"

Phil shrugs. "I don't know, but we're okay, right? So it doesn't really matter?" Phil offers, smiling serenely until he sees Dan's face.

"Fucking no. What the fuck did I tell you? You're always bloody like this, I'm fucking done. I love you, you know I do, but fucking hell Phil I can't deal with it. Don't you _dare_ ever do that again."

Dan has told Phil that he loves him before, and Phil has always said it back but this time there seems like there's something more. It feel different, almost, less forced or more honest. It's almost like a confession and Phil finds himself sincerely wishing that it is. It sounds like something, something more than friendship; something real. He tries to emphasise with Dan and he knows he's put him through hell and back. Dan thought that he'd lost him and reversed, that's something Phil refuses to face.

"Dan, what were you going to say before Bull saved us?"

Dan gulps. "I can't remember."

Phil doesn't quite believe him. "Okay."

They drive more and Phil is sighing. He's really bored, car journeys were never his thing and an apocalypse isn't going to change his opinion on something so monotonous and dull. He opens Mrs McGregor's glove compartment and shuffle through it. There is a single CD without a case and it looks homemade. Infact, it looks like the Christmas present he and Dan made her. He pushes it into the CD player.

Phil doesn't expect the Adventure Time theme tune but and giggles and then giggles more at Dan's face and he giggles at their singing and he giggles because he feels a little bit happier. The song fades into Oh No Oh My's _ and he feels Dan's hand curl around his own. He smiles because here, right now he is happy and for one second it is them and the music, hands locked in one perfect and yet tiny, insignificant embrace. The mixtape is soft and light and floaty indie, warm and light and Phil feels almost invincible with his hand in Dan's. He feels warm. Starlight begins and they giggle again because Muse don't really fit in the album and Phil smiles because it's just like them; light and dark, blue and brown, tanned and pale, light and dark, black and brown. They are the reflection of the other, yet sheer opposites and as the song ends, Dan's hand tightens and lifts Phil's hand brushing his lips over the knuckles.

Dan's eyes are still firmly on the road but Phil is staring at his lips and he watches as they form three perfect words.

And there is nothing else Phil can do but whisper it back. "I love you, too, Dan."

And then the car hits a bump and the whole car veers slightly to the side, raising from the road then slamming down again on the other side. Bull's head hits the glass window and she jolts awake and Phil is panicking because the car seems to be slowing down.

He might hate car journeys but he hates walking more and if anything the zombies walking round are putting him off even more.

When the first infected pelts at the car, they can't help the feeling that everything previous has been a warm up.

It is Dan who snaps into action first, a lunge into the backseat where an already alert Bull is waiting apprehensively.

"We're gonna have to get out." Dan says.

Phil nods.

There's a settled feeling in his stomach, the most primal dread. Oh yeah, he's about to die again. _Again_.

He is angry and yet content. Angry that the world has cut off his moment so soon, angry because he was meant to grow old with Dan because they are in love and that's what people do. They were supposed to make more videos, do more, meet more people, lose some more, grow, win, lose, fail succeed. They were meant to live, to love. And yet he is content because Dan loves him and he loves Dan and he has always knows, always denied because why would he be in love with his best friend? He understands, now. It is because his best friend is Dan.

Dan's eyes are the opposite of his own. Dan is still scared. He has not accepted.

Phil drags him into one final snog, fingers tangling in his hair and then he hugs Bull, kissing her on the cheek and watches Dan do the same. Everything is surreal, dreamlike and it's weird. It's like he's accepted this. He really doesn't want to die but he can't stop his body moving in a trance like state. He opens the car door.

He feels himself being dragged into the hoard and he can't help but curse himself for being so fucking stupid. How did he want this? He wants to struggle but his whole body is rebelling against him, muscles locked in painful cramps and _fuck shit tit wanking balls cockwhallop arsecrack bollocking cunt flap_ and Phil isn't one to swear. There is no pain, nothing, nothing, nothing and his body in engulfed by warmth and he feels sleepy, so, so so sleepy.

He wakes up. There's a kettle boiling and he pulls his blanket closer around himself. Dan is humming. He is warm. it could all of been a dream, a terrifying nightmare caused by far too many horror films and video games.

He turns over, quietly whispering "Dan" and hears Dan's footsteps near, a soft kiss pressed to his temple. He drifts again.

* * *

**what does this mean ?/? oh how you'd like to know**

**_NintenGilr2002_: i really, really deserved that omg thank you i'm laughing. thank you for the review too and im relatively new to the whole phan universe so that means a load. and i agree about the username!**

**_Sofia_: omg thank you god bless jesus loves you**

**_Moonfruit_ _Infusion_: thank you so much ily i try yknow i really do**

**_TheAdelaide9_: YES I KNOW NO ONE DIED PRAISE THE LORD ! and thank you, my ocs are my babies so for someone to compliment them aw man i'm blushing**

**_Emily_: aaah thank you! i knew you'd warm to bull a bit, she's not a wet fangirl (ooo saucy) she's a proper female and she's not gonna give up**

**_potatoes-are-not-for-sex_: thank you so so so much! it was really stressful writing the whole infection development part so i went with what i knew from bio and researched loads until it made some scientific sense. and i know PJ AND CHRIS ARE BACK DARLINGS YAY**

**_mymewchowski_: eeep thank you so much that's so lovely aw bless you**

**_Axelr8r_: [fireworks explode] NEW REVIEWER YAY !1! ah i have something fun up my sleeve you never know what i'll do. bull is minorly based on me, she's everything that i want to be (looks and personality wise) so she has some things in common with me, but she's mostly herself. if i was really really cool and really confident and really hot i would be like bull i think**

**THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE INVOLVED IN THIS STORY (READING, REVIEWING, FOLLOWING, FAVOURITING) BECAUSE GUYS THE FACT THAT IT HAS HIT 13K VIEWS EEE THANK YOU SO SO MUCH [ENDLESS HUGS]**


	11. Well Whatta Daize

**ok so just saying this isn't over (oops yeah forgot to mention that). i managed to convince some of you that it was (kind of my plan oops) and i'm sorry bout that but yknow. we still have ages to go, i have a few massive plot points to dish out and some plot twists and more so don't go leaving me ily all (you didn't think i'd leave it without a smut scene did you?). i also wanna apologise for this chapter being painfully short compared to the previous one, sorry guys :cc**

**i wanna thank muse, arctic monkeys and the amazing users of 8tracks who somehow make playlists that can inspire me for years**

**also, there's a bit of yorkshire slang in here (nowt = nothing)**

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Phil wakes up pressed against Dan's chest.

The smell of ash clings to his nostrils and his feet are cold in his socks. He never wears socks to bed. Dan nuzzles into his hair and Phil presses back against him, Dan's arm curling around his waist. Dan kisses the crook of his neck, warm breath tickling against his earlobe and small shudders rippling down his spine.

"Yeah, not gay. I'm seeing it now." A voice calls and the trance is broken, Phil's eyes flying open. For a second he wonders why there is someone in his bedroom, someone other than Dan and then he realises that he recognises that voice.

"Bull?" He mutters, voice low with sleep and he hears a sigh.

"Who the fuck else? Did you think that the zobs had learnt to talk or something?" Phil wants to tell her that of course he didn't think that, but he thinks about it for a moment and decides that 'I thought the whole thing was a dream' sounds just as dumb. He nudges Dan in the stomach and he grunts behind him, disentangling himself and rolling over.

He's tired. He didn't fall asleep in the car like Phil did, in fact he had a problem with sleeping at all. Driving constantly on the lookout was draining both emotionally and physically and he felt more like an unexploded firework than a human being. Phil kisses his nose and looks around at his surroundings, which, surprisingly, are rather nice.

They're lying, wrapped in duvets he didn't know they had before now, in a large bath. There is a shower curtain pushed down along the rail, down by their feet and the taps. Around the rim of the bath are four camping lanterns, battery-powered, and the sink is covered in burning candles. The walls are covered with grey tiles, a small radiator crammed next to the toilet, which Phil notices had more candles perched upon it. The floor is white and clean and Bull has made herself a makeshift bed, forged of towels and clothes and a scarf. Speaking of Bull, Phil hadn't noticed her leave the room but he was suddenly noticing her absence and assumed that she must have, unless she fell down the toilet.

"So, where are we?" He asks and Dan chooses that moment to finally wake properly, stretching and sitting up next to him, yawning and rubbing his neck.

"We're in a bath." He says halfway through his yawn, so it comes out as more or a slur than a sentence. Phil shoots him a pained look. "Okay, okay, we're in some small village outside of Leeds. In a sort of survivors camp. Bull told me about this place, dunno how."

He thinks he knows why, and he's about to explain to Dan that he is almost a hundred percent certain that this is where her old group stayed, but then he's hit with a crippling strike of doubt and buries the thought, and he mentally files it and hopes that he can remember to tell Dan later when he's more certain. He settles on: "cool." He nods, then, and ruffles his hair, cringing when he feels how grimy it is. He still feels slightly on edge and uncomfortable, and desperately wants a shower or even a wash, even in the cocoon of warmth that they have made. "Who's here, then?"

Dan shrugs. "I've only seen a few people so far, this woman called Daize, really nice and this guy called Belamtri. They don't run this place, though, apparently the people who set it up have gone out on a hunting trip or rescue mission or whatever. They should be back soon."

"Did you see where Bull went?" Phil asks and Dan shakes his head and shrugs gently. Phil gets out of the bath.

"Where you going?" Dan questions when Phil opens the door, and watches as Phil pauses and glances over his shoulder.

"To find Bull, I need to ask her something." He says resolutely and is pleasantly surprised when he hears Dan scrambling up behind him.

Phil looks around, curls his toes in the soft, cream carpets, strokes the cool mahogany of the bookshelf and the sideboard covered in antiques. He sniffs quietly and the house smells lightly of home, washed with bleach. He can hear hushed voices, as if muffled by a thick object and Phil follows the noise, lead down a wide stairway with creamy, white banisters.

He hears a hiss and leaps back, grabbing Dan's hand and desperately wishes that he had some sort of protection with him.

They are approaching the foot of the stairs when the door opens.

The couple stop breathing.

And then a slightly plump, but nonetheless smiling woman steps out. It's a dramatic anticlimax, Phil thinks, but he's happy for that because god knows what they'd have done if it was an infected. "Ah, Phil, it's nice to see you awake! And Dan, how are you love, was your cat-nap refreshing? I must say, I thought you might sleep for a little longer, you've only been up there for about ninety minutes, but whatever floats your boat, laddy. Let's get you in here, both of ya, and we'll have a nice chinwag with the locals?" She laughs kindly at her own lame joke and they can't help but chuckle too. Phil is still uncomfortable, the hissing is coming straight from the room she has walked into and he is petrified of what they might find inside.

Dan whispers: "that's Daize" softly in his ear and then they follow.

The room is exactly what he did not expect, but is fiercely brilliant and exciting and suddenly he feels so, so much more hope.

There is a group of ten, huddled on sofa and two armchairs, all with their attention focussed onto a television at the front with the BBC Worldwide News Channel with gaudy flashing headlines. A sombre faced American is reporting with a blank voice, but trembling lips and there's a tear threatening to stream down her face.

"...is predicting that all inhabitants of The British Isles to be dead by morning. The UN have stopped all crossing of borders and have forbidden any access to England, Scotland, Wales or any conjoined countries. Ireland is thought to be safe."

Daize claps her hands and someone turns the TV down and the lights rise slightly, low chatter quieting. "Alright, guys, meet our newest neighbours, Dan and Phil. They're in the upstairs bathroom so be warned, next time you need to piss it's the bottom floor loo or nowt. Right, let's introduce ourselves and when Podge get's back he can explain what this place actually does, sound good?"

There's an enthusiastic, yet quiet, cheer, which reassure Dan and Phil more, until they feel almost completely at ease.

Daize points at the man sat furthest from them first. He is well-built and tanned, dark brown hair smoothed back into a messy quiff. "Ciao, I'm Belamtri and I'm not Italian but I wish I was. Goddamn this stupid name." He has a strong Liverpool accent, even when he added an obscure line in Italian which nobody seems to know what meant.

Mark (just K, please), Marc (C, ta), Tellie, Cait, Jason, Jon, Dominic, Robyn and Jake all introduce themselves in similar fashion, grinning at the couple's polite but awkward responses. Bull is tucked between Dominic and Robyn, almost asleep and at the last-minute she adds: "half of you already know me, and those two gayboys definitely do, I'm Bull, but please don't hesitate to shout Bullshitter if you're pissed off with me."

She evokes a laugh from the group and closes her eyes again, satisfied at the reaction and snuggles further into Dominic's arm.

There's a harsh buzzing sound that sends Dan and Phil's hands to their ears, trying to block the ringing from their ears but failing. Daize laughs at them and reassures them that there's nothing to fear; it's the doorbell. She trots off to go answer the door when Bull perks up.

"Was that the doorbell?" She asks very suddenly and Dominic nods. Phil smiles fondly as she springs up and trips over her own feet, landing with a small "oof" and a string of obscenities.

From the corridor a man's voice echoes and then Daize's excited reply joins it and Bull is tugging on her t-shirt and biting her lips.

"She's here?"

"Aye, and pretty damn excited to hear that you lot are still alive and well…" Her next sentence is muffled by Tellie's sneeze, which they all glare at her for. "She's in the living room, along with the two guys that saved her. Y'know, if they weren't so into each other, I'd definitely be climbing their trees, y'know what I mean?"

Dan and Phil blush at this, Dan glancing at their still interlocked fingers and shrugging. They try to ignore all the eyes on them but don't quite successfully manage and end up catching Bull's, and flushing at her smug smile and the gesture she makes at them.

And then the door is opening and then a man wearing a Red hot Chilli Peppers t-shirt stands before them and stares at the girl wearing the dog hat and she stares back and then out of his lips fall the word: "Ammie?"

Bull's whole body goes rigid, sob caught in her throat. Dan and Phil look at each other, shocked into silence and watch as she nods, stepping forward once, twice and then breaking into a short lives sprint, flying into the man's outstretched arms and they watch as the man picks her up and spins her around and as she buries her head into his neck and sobs. They still watch, even when he puts her down and the tears have stopped, long after they pull apart.

Dan can't stop the small tear that rolls down his cheek when Bull whispers "I love you daddy" and when he glances at Phil his ears are glistening and he clenches their hands closer.

The man smiles and kisses her on the cheek. "I love you too, Ammie."

/Ammie./ Their breath catches. Her name is Ammie. It suits her, they think and Phil can't help wonder where her nickname came from because she has been nothing but a ray of light, and one of the most truthful people he knows.

"Pomf?" The man looks away from Bull, /Ammie/, for a second, and at the quizzical eyes of a man that both Dan and Phil know well.

"Chris?" They ask, almost in unison and Chris jerks his chin upwards, grinning at them.

"Didn't think I'd be dead, did ya? PJ wouldn't allow it."

* * *

**ok because i like obscure names Ammie is pronounce am-me, Daize like daze, Belamtri is exactly as it looks (bel-am-tree), Cait short for Caitlyn.**

**_Emily_: you rock girlfriend!1! you got it right! pomf is indeed bull's dad, and look what happened, reuinited eeep! the phil thinking it was all a dream was a bit of a red-herring and will be important to the plot, even if it doesn't seem it right now. thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

**_TheAdelaide9_: i kNOW i just really like plot twists, they always seem to make things more exciting! thank you for reading man and hope this relieves you of some confusion!**

**_PhanFictionz_: this is most certainly not the end! we have more adventures to go on, more death to overcome and more aggressive snogging!**

**_mymewchowski_: ****thank you! you're right, a gay love story makes everything great, even the apocalypse. thank you for reading!**

**this story hit 1507 views last night and i want to sob because i never expected anything quite like this so to anyone involved in this story _THANK__ YOU!1!one! _you guys have made all the effort put into this worth it [hearts xxx]**


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